the stage manager is tearing seams and drinking salty coffee (a book of poems by

memphis, oil.

the city is oily with slick orange lights peeking out of my blinds like pores. spotty and bright, they slouch around with a casual sense of forgery; this is not mine to take, this all day sunup. i am sad long before the sun cries on the east, sad long before the south swoops me up in its beak and won't let go.

8.28.15